Spying Runs In The Family
by Crazyfangirl23
Summary: Sequel to Mr and Mrs Smith. Couldn't help it, I had to do another one. Contains strong language and lemon.
1. Chapter 1

My second Whouffaldi fic, sequel to Mr and Mrs Smith

Spying Runs In The Family

Chapter 1

Clara opened her eyes at the din that was coming from the next room. Sighing, she climbed out of bed and padded over to infant in the cot, crying.

She picked him up and rocked him against her chest, trying to soothe him back into sleep. Pacing the room, she was vaguely aware that it had been the second time she had gotten out of bed. At least she had gotten four hours, she thought, patting the boy's back and trying to lull him back to sleep, to no avail.

She carried him out and slid back into bed with him, holding him close and stroking the thin wisps of hair on his tiny head. It was hard for her to get back to sleep after being woken up, and she knew that she would be woken up early by the same noise.

'Shhh, it's okay,' she whispered, finally succeeding in sending him off to sleep.

She looked over to where John was sleeping, unperturbed and oblivious. His wild hair had grown unruly and even crazier, and she made a mental note to remind him to get a haircut.

After just over a year of being normal, and everything was just as she had hoped. John had become a doctor, she had become a mother and they now ate dinner every night.

Which couldn't have been the reason to why she was feeling uneasy lately. She didn't know how to describe it and she hadn't told John about it.

Rolling on to her side, carefully placing David between them, she told herself that there was nothing wrong with the life she was leading. Watching her two boys sleeping made her feel a lot safer and at peace. They were the most beautiful people in existence to her, and watching them now slowly eradicated the uneasiness. She reached over to hold onto John's hand, and let her eyes drop, forcing herself to go back to sleep.

••••

John's eyes opened, a ray of light shining weakly on his face. He focused on the first solid thing he saw, which was Clara. He smiled, his sense of touch returning to him and realising she was holding his hand. He held on tighter, kissing it and staring at her beautiful face. He didn't know what he had done to deserve such a person.

He looked at the bundle between them, his tiny eyes closed and his mouth slightly parted. Clara must have brought him to their bed because he was making too much noise.

He lightly kissed his forehead, smiling at him with unmistakable love.

Clara wasn't joking when she said he wouldn't cope, and she was right, but even he admitted he was doing okay. He glanced at the alarm clock, sighing. His moment was short-lived. He reluctantly unclasped his hand from hers and got up from the comfortable bed. Stretching, he walked over to the wardrobe and set out his shirt and tie.

He glanced at the two wrapped up in the blankets and he felt unconditional love for both of them. He knew he would always love them. It put a twinkle in his eye and a tender smile on his face.

He shrugged on his jacket and and tightened his tie, knowing it would be a busy day. A groan came from behind him, and he turned round to see Clara shifting restlessly. She sat up on her elbows, sighing exasperatedly but smiling sleepily at him despite, hair in her eyes.

'You look like you had a nice sleep.'

'Compared to other nights, yeah. Which still isn't enough.'

He chuckled. 'It never is.'

'I don't get how you sleep through it.'

'Sometimes I don't, I'm just too lazy.'

'And you've never bothered to tell me that, before? Do you know how tired I am every night?'

'Clara, Clara, don't get in a twist when you've just woken up.'

'I'm just tired, John.' She said, exasperated.

'I can see that. Don't worry, I'll let you sleep this evening.'

'Off so soon?'

'It is 7 o'clock.'

'Already? I really didn't get much sleep.'

He smirked, and she crawled up to him to ruffle his hair once again.

'It's getting wilder. You need a haircut.'

He just let her play around with his hair now, he knew he couldn't stop her anyway.

'Have a nice day.' She whispered.

'You too.'

She kissed him goodbye and he walked down the stairs, grabbing a tangerine and setting off to work.

He had gotten used to the domesticity of normal life, and it was a lot harder than he expected, especially with a son. But nothing stopped him from feeling relief every day at being safe and keeping them safe. He carried that relief when he got the bus to the hospital and when he treated his patients; he carried it when he had lunch, when he washed his hands, when he set off back home. He carried it everywhere. It was one of the things he like about being normal.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

He walked through the front door, accepting the usual noise of gurgling and children's television. Clara walked up to him and gave him her adorable smile that made his heart melt. She embraced him, and he breathed in her scent of mint, the smell committed to memory.

He glanced at David, who was in his chair watching telly, and he smiled fondly.

'Has he been alright?'

'He's been usual. Making noise, mostly.'

'That's my boy.'

He turned back to her, watching how her eyes roamed his face.

'What's for tea?'

'Sausages.'

'Hmm, sounds good.'

She turned back and he followed, slipping his arms round her small waist.

'And how have you been?' He asked.

'Okay. Business as usual. It's just frustrating that I have to go through the tests and revision to become a teacher while looking after him. My brain is constantly buzzing.'

'You'll get through it. You always do.' He encouraged, not able to resist kissing her hair.

Wailing came from the living room and John walked over to pick him up.

'You don't let anyone else get attention do you?' He told him. 'No, you don't.'

He kissed his forehead and rocked him about, seeing Clara stare at him.

'What is it?'

'You look so out of place. It's cute.'

'Don't call me cute! I am not cute!'

She laughed. 'You just don't seem the type of person to get all snuggly with a baby.'

'He's my son.'

'Yeah, he is, I found him playing with your guitar picks.'

'Did you?,' he turned to David, looking into his brown eyes identical to his mother's, 'are you going to play the guitar, like daddy?' He asked, and she laughed again.

'What?'

'Nothing.' She smirked, her eyes betraying her.

'Don't worry, David, I won't let her spoil our fun.' He whispered.

'I can hear you.' She walked over to him and took David from his arms.

'Now she's trying to separate us.' He said, watching his mouth turn into a small smile were tiny teeth were only just starting to form.

'Dinner's ready now, anyway.' She called, and he shrugged off his jacket. Taking a plate, he sat on the sofa and tried to drown out the awful sound coming from the television.

'The days when we didn't have to watch children's TV.' He said, as Clara started feeding David baby food.

'Yeah. It's going to be a long time before we can do that again.'

'Isn't your dinner going to get cold?'

'I'm not very hungry.'

'Why?'

'Been looking after this monster all day, and all the work. And I had to take him to the shops. Which you still haven't done.' She narrowed her eyes at him.

'I'll get round to it.'

'Like you always say.' She smirked.

John watched his wife as she played food games to get David to eat the mush, making him giggle adorably.

He eventually fell asleep in his chair, food still round his mouth. Wiping it away, Clara slowly untangled him from the straps and lifted her into his arms. John could see the underlying stress in her eyes she would never admit to, and the way she blinked just a little too slowly. He took the infant from her and cradled him safely in his arms.

'I'll put him to bed. Don't try to admit you're not tired, because I can see it.'

She looked up at him appreciatively, whispering a thank you as he took him up the stairs and into his bedroom, singing old Scottish songs he used to sing as a child to help him get to sleep. Lowering him into his cot he stood and admired his child for a while, smiling.

Clara had fallen asleep on the sofa, but woke when he put his arm around her and she smiled.

'I'll let you sleep on the weekend. I'll keep him occupied.'

'You're just as tired as me.'

'Not as much. I haven't been looking after a wailing child.'

'Try screaming.' She said.

He leant his head on hers and smiled. Rare moments together where appreciated, because they were usually really tired.

It was weird, because John knew that being spies hadn't made them as tired as they were now, which didn't make any sense. He didn't know what it was, he just guessed a normal life and a child made you a lot more tired than a spy life would because being a spy was learning how to shoot a gun. Being a doctor and a teacher required brain skills.

Silence presented itself as usual, until the phone rang, making Clara jump as she had started to fall asleep.

She began to move, but he didn't let her. Picking up the phone, he got a surprise when a voice answered that he hadn't heard for a long time.

'John.'

'How are you alive, Gallifrey-?' He whispered into the phone.

'I got away just in time. A few of us did.'

'It's good to hear your voice again, boss.'

'Yes, yours too.'

'I suppose there's something you want to tell me?'

'John, we need you back as The Doctor.'

He stared, his eyes widening. Turning his back on Clara, he whispered even quietly.

'I can't do that. I'm living a normal life now. And I'm already a doctor.'

'This is serious. You're the only one who can do it.'

He snorted. 'I'm sure you have-'

'John, hear me out.'

He made an impatient face, and let him carry on.

'Missy is back.'

John's heart froze and his hands almost went slack.

'W-what, how is that possible? She should be under the tightest security in prison.'

'She's a genius. She broke out somehow.'

He ran his hand down his face in despair, feeling sick.

'I still can't do it.' He said finally.

'Look, we will pay you. A lot. Just come back temporarily. That's all I ask. I'll sort out something with the hospital and you can come back.'

'Where is she? Missy?' He asked, chewing his fingernails nervously.

There was silence on the other end.

'Where is she?' He repeated, his voice a little higher.

'Spain.'

'Spain? I have to go to Spain?'

'Yes.'

'No...no, I'm not leaving.'

'Just consider the-'

'I have a little boy.' He said, and a pause came from the other end.

'What if I don't come back alive?' He hissed, the thought already destroying him, 'if my son grows up without a father, what then? If Clara is without a husband because I betrayed her and got myself killed in Spain. How are you going to explain that to her? Are you going to give her all your money, for compensation? You don't know the feeling, because you haven't got a child, you haven't got a wife and you are too lazy to get off your ass and do the job yourself.' He finished. Another pause.

'We need you.'

'They need me!'

'Look, if you don't do this, you're just putting them in danger. You're the one she wants, so I'll bet she's going to get to your house as soon as she can, and then what, John? Endanger your family? What would you do for them?'

'I would do anything.'

'Exactly. Yes, there is a chance you would be killed, but aren't they worth fighting for? To keep them safe, no matter how much heartbreak it takes for you to leave them. And plus, there is a chance you will survive. I am very sorry for asking this John, I really am, and I know you can't leave them, but this is bigger, this is the world we're talking about. Her first plan was to get you to become spies and take over the world. I don't want to imagine what she's thinking of next.'

That left John in silence. He would do anything for them, he said it himself, and they're safety was definitely worth fighting for.

He turned to look at Clara, lying on the sofa. It felt like someone had stabbed him with a dagger of ice and dragged it all the way down his heart.

'Okay.' He said simply, defeated.

'Meet me after work tomorrow at the Rose & Crown. I'll tell you about it in further detail. And again, I'm very sorry. I hope you are well.'

With that he hung up, leaving John standing there, tongue-tied and shell-shocked.

'I hope you are well?!' He thought, anger bubbling at the pit of his stomach. 'Of course I'm not well, you stupid, ignorant bastards.' He said out loud, looking at the phone like he wanted to smash it to pieces.

He watched Clara sleep peacefully in front of him, unknowing and oblivious to what he had just agreed to. He covered his face with his hands, starting to cry shamelessly.

He should've known. He shouldn't have been so naive to think that he could have a normal life. He could never have a normal life. Once a spy, always a spy. He felt stupid and guilty and heartbroken for letting himself think he could just walk away peacefully from it all. It was never, ever going to be that easy.

He tried to think of something to tell Clara he was going to Spain. He knew she wouldn't let him.

Everything was mostly perfect, and now everything was crumbling around him. The walls were breaking the secure and protected haven he had built for the last year.

Looking at the time, he gently woke his beautiful Clara up, trying as much as he could to put on a convincing smile. He focused on the sound of her gentle voice, the way she held her arms out for him to carry her like a child.

Her head rested on his shoulder and her legs wrapped round his waist like a monkey, and John appreciated the comfort. He needed her right then, for if she hadn't been there he would probably have buckled at the knees and fell to the flor with the mental weight of what he was carrying upon his shoulders. He hated knowing he would have to lie seriously to her, something he vowed he'd never do again.

••••

Clara sat up straight at the sound of his alarmed voice.

'Clara! Clara!' He shouted, the 'r' rolling off his tongue like usual but infused with every kind of panic. She immediately turned to his side and asked 'what's wrong?! John? John!'

He had woken up in a cold sweat, his eyes bloodshot and his voice cracking.

'John, John, John, what's the matter?' She said, holding him, supporting him upright, panicking herself. As soon as he registered it was her, he embraced her fully, not letting to of her and repeated her name. When he finally released her from his bone-crushing hug, Clara asked him what had happened.

His breathing was heavy and he looked like he was in pain.

'Nightmare.' He said, trying to control his shaking.

'About what?'

He shook his head, looking disgusted.

'You can tell me anything, John, it's okay.' She said, stroking his stomach and looking at him with fearful eyes. She always hurt if he was hurting, and she tried to encourage him as best she could.

'You...David...'

He couldn't finish his sentence, because he leaned over the side of the bed and was sick.

'John?' She said, her own voice cracking and tears springing to her eyes. She peered over the top of him, watching him shake against the bed as she rubbed his back. Slowly pulling away he padded into the bathroom. She followed him, wincing at the bright light. He was looking at himself in the mirror, frozen, and he was scaring her.

She walked over to him, trying to reassure him that everything was okay and that he was safe and that he could tell her anything. It seemed to make him look more murderously at his reflection in the mirror. Clara was alarmed at his attitude, and she wanted him to get away from the goddamned mirror before she broke it, not caring about the stupid superstition.

'Why won't you tell me?'

He shook his head, his eyes shut closed. She sighed, ruffling his hair. A very faint, almost ghostly smile flickered for a few seconds.

'You should go back to bed.' He told her.

'No. Let's get this off you, first.'

She helped him out of his sick-splattered t shirt, worrying over the fact that he had had a nightmare so bad he had actually been sick. She have him a glass of water, which he gulped down emotionlessly. He stood there, shirtless and unmoving, scaring the hell out of Clara as he still looked venomously at himself.

She embraced him, her arms going round his thin, skinny frame and her fingers trailing up his back. 'Please, just tell me what happened.'

He shook his head violently. 'It would make you even more sick.' He said, his teeth bared at his reflection.

She nodded half-heartedly against his chest, closing her eyes and cursing quietly to herself as she heard the beginnings of cries coming from David's bedroom.

She glanced up at him, her hands lingering slightly on the planes of his chest before she walked through the door and knit the darkened bedroom.

'Come, on.' She said, lifting him up and cradling him with his head over her shoulder. Patting his back, she turned to see John standing in the doorway, watching them. No sooner had she said his name than he walked away from them. Quietly sending David off to sleep again she hurried after John.

'Tell me what's the matter.' She said again, this time a lot more urgently.

'Clara, I had a nightmare, that's it.'

'Thats it? You had a nightmare so horrific you were physically sick, John. Even that's unnatural for a nightmare. It must have been a lot worse.'

'It was, but you don't have to worry about it. It was, after all, just a dream.'

'You were sick, don't tell me not to worry about you!'

'I'm fine.'

'No, you're not.'

'Go back to bed.'

'Not until you tell me.'

Her hands were on her hips and her expression was demanding.

'No, Clara. Please don't make me relive it. Please. Go back to bed.'

She didn't move, just watched his face. 'Do as you are told.'

She saw his eyes, still red and tired.

Without a word, she turned her back and walked over to their bed, giving him what he wanted. She curled up into a ball, feeling her heartbeat thump faster at the fear she felt for him and his panicked voice saying her name frozen in her mind.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

When Clara woke up the next morning to crying, she noticed the bed was empty. Staring at the space where John should be, she felt a sharp pain in her chest.

Patting David on the back, she wondered down the stairs, but she couldn't see John. Her heart beating faster, she opened the door to the garden, where John was standing, watching the sunrise.

'John? Why didn't you come to bed last night? You got me worried when I woke up. Are you okay?' She stared up into his face, her hand placed comfortingly on his shoulder, but he didn't look at her or respond.

'John, please, you're scaring the hell out of me.'

He slowly turned his head.

'How long have you been here?' She asked, and then she realised, her eyes widening. 'Bloody hell, John, have you been out here all night with no shirt on?'

He slowly shook his head.

'I've just come out here. I'm not cold.'

'It's December!' She exclaimed.

He only shrugged. She walked back to the warmth inside, placing David in his chair. She hurried back outside again, standing right in front of him.

'Where did you sleep, then?'

'I didn't.'

'You didn't? What were you doing all night? You have work today!'

'I haven't done anything.'

'I don't believe you.'

He narrowed his eyes at her. 'I haven't done anything.'

The creases in her forehead, her expression angry and hurt.

'Why are you acting like this? What's happened?'

'Clara, please just leave me alone.'

'You've been alone all night and I'm not leaving you.'

'What do I do to satisfy you, then?'

'You can start by telling me what you're doing out now and why you've been alone all night. And about the dream.'

'I had a dream, that's it. I had one so terrifying I was sick, that's all you have to know.'

'What was it about?' She said softly.

'I can't talk about it.'

'It was about David and me.'

'Yes. Please, don't make me relive it.'

'Okay. Why are you out here and what have you been doing?'

'In truth, I came out to watch the sunrise. But last night I mostly watched you sleep. Then I came down here and just...sat on my own.'

Clara didn't like this silent behaviour at all, it freaked her out.

'John, look at me.' She pleaded.

He finally averted his eyes to what he was staring at and looked at her.

'Don't do that again.' She said, shaking her head. She reached upwards to caress his cheek, and he finally looked back at her with understanding and love, which made her heart sigh.

'You have to remember, John, that I love you. Okay? I will always love you.'

Her eyes shone bright and John embraced her in a comforting hug. Despite the cold, he felt overheated.

'I know.' He told her. She took another look at his pale face, and walked back inside.

••••

John stood a moment longer outside, watching the bleak orange disc in the sky rise up among a weak blue sky and finally feeling the cold that told him that snow would be coming. David's first Christmas. He hated himself even more for agreeing to leave them behind. He thought of what should be the most perfect Christmas in his life, wrapping David in layers of warm clothing, playing in the snow with him, walking through the snow-covered woods and opening his presents on Christmas Day. He wanted nothing else but to be part of that Christmas. He wanted it so badly he would kill for it. He knew that he probably wont come back in time, or that he would be killed. He couldn't bear to think of what would happen. He just wanted Clara, who was the reason his heart beat and carried on beating.

He finally stepped inside, walking to his bedroom and putting his work clothes on. He was dreading it. He was dreading the day becoming later and later until he was off work and then he had to meet his old boss again.

'Have a nice day.' Clara told him, kissing him quickly and letting him walk out the door. John hated every step he took from that moment, knowing he was coming closer and closer.

He reluctantly walked through the door to the Rose & Crown pub, instantly seeing a familiar figure at the bar.

'John!' He smiled, waving him over.

'Don't you dare do that. Do you know how hard I took it last night? Do you even want to know?'

His boss looked disturbed, his smile becoming a frown. 'I'm sorry.'

'Cut straight to it. I don't want to be here for long. I have a family to go home to.' He said icily, the last part striking guilt on the other man's face.

'Well, Missy is currently in Spain. We're trying our hardest to find her, we really are. But deep down I think she's waiting for you again. She even gave us a message when she was in prison that didn't make any sense at first. She had been planning her escape.'

'What was the message?'

'Four weeks otherwise I'll strike home.' He replied.

His heart frosted over with fear. 'Four weeks otherwise I'll strike home'. He knew exactly what she had meant. Four weeks to find her or she destroys his home, kills his family. His fists clenched, his face went red and his fearsome eyebrows intensified. He would not let that happen. No way in time and space would he let that happen.

'What do I have to do?' He asked determinedly.

The rest of the evening was spent talking about what will happen, security and tactics, all the while his heart was slowly deteriorating.

He finally walked out of the pub, relieved he was finally out, but his whole being crushed and destroyed.

As he walked to the bus stop he noticed tiny flecks of snow, slowly trickling down from the midnight blue sky, the moon full and glowing. He would have enjoyed it, except how could he. It was the sign of Christmas nearly coming, and he wouldn't be part of it.

He walked in, seeing Clara lying on the couch, asleep. There was a tenseness in her forehead, a sadness. He knew she had been waiting for him. He shook her shoulder, whispering Clara's name. She slowly opened her eyes.

'What's for tea?' He asked.

Clara sat there, looking at him, and then she smacked his shoulder. Watching her eyes blaze, rubbing his shoulder, she stood up and he took a step back, realising he shouldn't have patronised her.

'I was waiting...for hours,' she said, advancing toward him, 'where the hell were you?'

'I was working late, Clara, I'm sorry.'

'And you didn't think,' she squeaked, 'to tell me?'

'Clara, please, I'm sorry.'

'That's the second time today you have freaked me out.'

'I'm sorry.'

'And you can make your own damn tea, you idiot.'

She walked away, and John felt even more depressed. He felt like a complete asshole for not making sure she knew where he was. He was too caught up in going to Spain that he didn't think about it. And now he had to tell her tomorrow, where she will probably still be pissed off. Sighing in frustration he walked up the stairs to his bedroom. Making sure Clara was asleep, he carefully slid open the hidden draw, looking murderously at the foreboding weapons. He reluctantly and angrily stashed them at the bottom of his bag. He hid it inside the draw, closing it shut and put on his pyjamas. Climbing in next to Clara, he gingerly took her hand in his. 'I'm sorry.' He whispered to her sleeping face.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

John knew he had to tell her, and he dreaded her reaction and the fact he had to lie. At least she had finally cooled down from what had happened the other night. He had decided to break the news after dinner, and he hated every second of it. There she was, sitting down so comfortably and peacefully, watching David with a loving smile on her face. He nearly abstained from telling her, but he couldn't let her find out on her own. He had to tell her. Sidling up to her, he finally managed to make himself speak.

'Clara?'

'Yes?'

'I need to tell you...something.' His expression must have given it away, for she immediately reached out to pat his shoulder.

'What is it?' She asked fearfully.

He decided to come straight out with it to save time.

'I have to go to Spain.'

Her hand dropped, and she fidgeted with them.

'Why?'

'Doctor stuff. There are some patients over there with some sort of disease and we have to go check it out.' He lied.

'And no one else can do it?'

He shook his head.

'But it's nearly Christmas!'

'I know.'

'How long are you staying there?' She asked.

He paused. 'I don't know.'

She took in a sharp breath.

'John Smith, you better return back home for Christmas or so help me I will go over there myself and murder you, you understand?'

He nodded, swallowing. He knew there wasn't any way he could return home in time.

'Okay.' He smiled weakly.

She smiled in reply. 'Please be careful over there.' She told him, playing with his hair.

He nodded again, his head still hung.

'Will you be alright, here?' He asked.

'Yeah, we'll manage, won't we David?' She called over to the infant, and he gurgled in reply, jiggling about enthusiastically like he always did, his tiny hands swinging up and down freely. John watched her, a smile of unconditional adoration for the child.

'See, we'll be fine,' she told him, 'as long as you are.' She smiled.

He cupped her cheek, his finger sliding over it adoringly as he brought her lips to his, and he tried to forget all the lies he had told her, but guilt still flooded him as her arms wrapped round his neck and she drew in closer. Knowing what he knew only worsened the situation but he made himself cling onto her longer, knowing that when she eventually finds out she will have this memory. His hands moved up her waist and his tongue slid between her teeth just as David started gurgling again. He sighed, his forehead touching hers and his eyes staring into her own before they both looked over to the baby, watching him kicking his legs about.

'What have I told you about attention?' He called to him, and Clara laughed. John revelled in the sound of her joy, for he had the sickest feeling he wouldn't hear it much from tonight.

'Come on, attention seeker, let's take you to bed.' Clara lifted him in her arms and he followed them to David's bedroom, where he stood with her, watching their son quietly drift off to sleep. They stared at each other, and John felt the rush of love coursing through his veins as he usually did when he looked at her, and he couldn't help but touch her, holding her in his arms as they stared into each other's eyes. He lifted her up, legs going round his waist and carrying her to their bedroom as she crushed her lips against his and he lived in the moment of it, knowing he wouldn't be able to do this once he was away. Maybe even for the last time. The thought stung in his mind, and he kissed her back with as much passion as he could, never letting her go. They reached the bed and he laid her down, climbing on top of her and trying to make the most of what he knew could be the last. His hands roamed her perfect body, and his eyes were shut tight, trying to freeze the moment in time. Her eagerness led her to slide his jacket off his shoulders and hug him to her as tight as she could. He caressed her cheek, her neck, dotting kisses all over her beautiful skin and he felt as if there was nothing to fear so long as he was in her arms. Her hands slowly undid the buttons on his shirt, and he opened her eyes to see her staring at him with the same expression. He smiled, kissing her again and threading his long fingers through her soft hair. She discarded his shirt and her hands roamed his chest, massaging his stomach and bringing him even closer. His beautiful Clara. The only thought in his mind was of her now, and he slid his hand under her, finding the zip on her dress and slowly bringing it down.

She removed the dress hastily and John was reminded of how lucky he was, and when their eyes met, he got the same feeling as he first did the day he met her. Each kiss was as powerful as their first had been, each emotion he felt was as new as the first time he felt them. All he knew was that he could never stop loving her, the way she raised her eyebrows, the way her gorgeous brown eyes looked up at him, the way her smile reached her dimples, everything about her was just as perfect as the first day. Not even age could take her beauty away. He knew she would still look achingly beautiful in old age to him. And with that notion he wrapped his arms round her waist, looking at her with hungry eyes, a smirk which she giggled at splayed on his face. Slowly kissing him, she rubbed his arms and played with his belt, sliding it off him and chucking it away carelessly. She fiddled with the buttons on his trousers, undoing them until he kicked them off, and she brought her legs to his, rubbing her calves with his own and sliding them upwards to reach his paper thin waist, entrapping him completely. Her fingers played with his hair, threading through his curls lovingly as she smiled against his mouth. Nothing else mattered to him at that moment, only the feel of Clara's hands treading patterns in his hair consoling him completely.

••••

Clara felt it hard in the morning to get out of bed, since John was still hugging her body and he provided great warmth. But as the alarm sounded, she reluctantly sat up, and shook his shoulder. He smiled sleepily at her, his curls bouncing everywhere, falling into his eyes. She found him so adorable. He eventually climbed out of bed, putting on his clothes and brushing his teeth. Getting up, getting dressed, getting Dave, and getting John breakfast as they still had time before he went to work. As soon as he was finished he started to strain his smiles, which Clara assumed was just the remembrance of guilt from having to leave her and David for a few weeks. Even the way he departed, giving her two kisses and almost forcing his smile. But she didn't dwell on it too much. She carried out her normal routine.

Ten minutes later and she was examining the paper in front of her, trying to concentrate on English, but David interrupting her thoughts like always. Balancing him on her knee she tried to console him while trying to write. After twenty minutes of getting nowhere she gave up and let David have his attention. After watching children's TV, feeding him and bathing him, she finally put him to sleep. Slowly putting him down in his cot, tiptoeing out cautiously, she yawned, her hand ruffling her own hair. She walked into her bedroom, revelling in the peace she finally had. Grabbing her work she climbed into bed, but not before she had seen something out of the corner of her eye. She made her way to the draw where they had stored all their old, unused weapons, seeing a gun lying discarded on the floor. She stared at it in shock, slowly picking it up. She turned it in her hands, confused. Why did John open the drawer? Why did he need a gun? A myriad of questions swirling in her mind. Opening the drawer, she found his bag. Looking inside it to see all the rifles, knives and shotguns they owned the happiness she had shared with him that morning and last night slipped away. She began to feel reluctant anger at him. Disappointment and let down were understatements. She felt crushed, cheated, unhappiness at the way he could hide something like this while making her so happy.

She sat down on her bed, not wanting to do anything, feeling sick at the thought of John interacting with guns again. They had agreed to put their past behind them, put all their weapons where no little hands could reach them. What was he hiding from her?

That night when he came home, she was waiting for him. He walked through the door, and she stood right in front of him.

'Are you okay?' He asked, putting up his coat.

'No, I'm not.' She said, her voice thick with hurt.

'Why, what's the matter?'

'I found a gun on the floor of our bedroom. Where David could easily reach it and...' The rest of the sentence was lost on her. She looked at him, her lips trembling.

'And when I opened the drawer, guess what I found?' She asked accusingly.

John couldn't hide it any longer. She had already found him out. He sighed in frustration, his hands covering his face in shame. He must have dropped a gun unknowingly on the floor by accident.

'David could have reached it, John! Are you listening to me?'

He nodded between his fingers, frightened of her wrath.

'All of our weapons...in your bag. Are you going to explain this or am I going to have to speak to someone else? Like your boss, for instance. Found out today he's not dead. So come on, John, what are you lying to me about?'

'Clara...'

'Get straight to it.' She said, her arms folded.

He sighed once more. 'Missy's broken out of prison.' He said breathlessly.

She went rigid, fear creeping into her heart, into her soul. She looked at David, happily playing with his toys.

'My boss rung me up,' he continued, 'to get me to come to Spain, where she is now. I swear I didn't want to do it, I only agreed to keep you safe. She gave me a message. 'Four weeks otherwise I'll strike home,' she's saying-'

'You have to find her in four weeks or she will come here.' She completed, her hands going numb.

'I swear I am not letting her get anywhere near you or David.'

'You're going to get yourself killed.'

He nodded sadly, his head hung, not wanting to look into her eyes, which sparkled with tears.

'How couldn't you tell me?' She said, and John felt the pain in his chest burn as Clara's enormous, tearful eyes looked up at him.

'Lying to me again, about something that big. Knowing all last night, fooling me into being so happy, while all the time you were keeping that from me. How could you have the audacity to do something like that? Making me believe you were going on a safe trip for work, promising me you will be home for Christmas, and if you never came back and I didn't know? How could you do that to me? How could you hide the fact that these last days are probably going to be the last I see you...' Her voice cracked and she turned her back on him, walking up the stairs.

••••

John felt the worst he had in all his life. He was surprised it didn't crush him to death. At least that would probably have been easier. He raced up the stairs, and his heart broke into splinters at the sight of Clara curled up on their bed, crying. He knelt beside her and carefully pulled her into a hug. He had never heard her cry so much before, much less heartbreakingly. She cried and cried, tears pouring from her eyes like a fountain, wetting his shoulder. It went on for what seemed like an eternity.

'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I love you.' He repeated over and over to her, stroking her hair.

'I will hunt down that bitch myself for doing this.' She muttered between sobs.

He couldn't say anything, just buried his nose into her shoulder, his eyes shut tight and crying hot tears of pain. 'I swear I will keep you safe.' He promised, clutching her tighter.

'What if you don't come home?'

It pained him so much to say it, to finalise it so completely that he paused before answering and his voice cracked.

'Then I don't come home.'

Clara cried harder, and he kissed her hair, her neck, trying to console her even though he knew she wouldn't be, and that he was far from it herself.

His heart bled at her despairing and unstoppable crying and he felt the way she gripped his hair, wanting to never let go.

'I can't let you go.' She wailed.

'You have to. I'm not letting her come anywhere close to you or David, do you understand?'

'I'll come with you, then.'

'No, no you're not coming, I'm not letting you put yourself in danger, not after last time. No way. I need you and Dave to be safe and live your lives, even if I die, you have to promise you'll carry on without me. Clara, there's a chance I might come back alive, okay? Hold onto that. You keep yourself and David safe.'

'It's his first Christmas and you won't be there. What if he grows up without you...' She spluttered, hardly able to say the words.

'Then I am grateful for the time we had. I will always love you, and Dave.'

She buried her face into his shoulder, her whole body shaking with earthquake tremors and her eyes bleeding tsunamis.

'Just keep that hope with you, okay? Please.'

All his words melted, flattened, rolled, crushed, unexplainable emotions destroying his whole body.

'I want to come with you. I don't want to sit here waiting for you to come home. I can't do that. If you're going to die, I want to die with you.'

'David can't be without two parents. He needs you.'

'I need you.' She broke into a fresh wave of tears, and kissed his neck, wanting anything but to feel this destructive pain inside her, eating her alive.

'I can get someone to look after Dave, and I'll make sure we come back alive for him. I swear we will come back for him.' She said, holding him to her as much as she could.

'It's too much of a risk. If we do die, she will come after him, and there is no way in all of time and space I am going to let that happen.'

'Then we take him with us.'

Both John and Clara froze at what she had just said. The silence was deafening to his ears.

'We can make sure he is completely 101% safe. She won't know we've brought him with us. It's either we spend our Christmas with each other or me and Dave spend one hell depressing Christmas here. Even if we die, David will have someone to look after him, we can take my dad to Spain with us so even if we do die, he has him. And he will be safe, protected. Because I am not letting Missy live. And if we survive, we're going to spend one very relieving Christmas.'

The tears were still rolling down her cheeks but she was no longer wailing. Instead her mind was worked up.

'Are you sure about this?' He asked, finally looking at her after half an hour of crying into each other's shoulders.

There were tears dotted on her eyelashes, rolling down her cheeks, and her eyes were slightly red, but she was still so breathtakingly beautiful.

She nodded. 'We will keep Dave safe if it's the last thing we do. That's all we have to care about. Making sure David Smith is safe.'

He stared at her, confident and broken at the same time, fearful yet strong, in pieces yet so incredibly remarkable.

'I love you.'

She nodded, 'I love you too.'

And then her lips were on his, and John held his Clara in his arms, and he committed every touch to memory, every emotion he felt, every electrifying kiss they shared between them. He could feel her heartbeat, and he promised himself he would do anything to keep it beating.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

'When are we leaving?' She asked.

'Two days. I also want to spend at least one day together, like a holiday. I don't think that's too much to ask. And we have a lot of security, they'll keep us safe more or less.'

She moved closer to him, heads almost touching and the pillow a comfort to her headache.

'So we won't actually have any privacy?'

'No, not really. But it's just one day. I want one day to spend as a family, as it could be...our last.'

They stared at each other, a thick silence overhanging his words.

'This won't be easy.'

'No, it won't. Clara, are you sure you have to come? I don't want to see you get hurt again.'

'I'm not leaving you in danger.' She said softly. He stared back at her with understanding, just as cries were heard from David's room as usual. John got up to get him, patting his back. Clara stared at her boys, an overwhelming sadness washing over her, leaving traces behind like damp sand. However she couldn't help the small smile appearing as she watched John rocking David, telling him nonsense. It made her heart burst when she saw John interact with him like that. She loved the fatherly side to him she didn't know he would possess, but it was clear in the way he kissed his head and looked at him with adoration in his pale blue eyes. It had generally surprised her when he first showed signs of sentimentality and fatherhood toward his son, and it surprised her still.

'Come on, Dave, let's say hello to mummy.' He crashed back onto bed, handing him to her and never taking his eyes off him.

'Are you okay, honey? Huh? Oh, I know we'll be leaving soon, but you don't have to worry,' she told him, looking straight into his identical brown eyes, 'mummy and daddy will come back for you.' She said it with a developing tear in her eyes as he began to drift back to sleep again. John himself looked on with knowing sadness, and he looked at Clara, who laid David down between them and held onto his tiny fist.

Taking the other, they both watched their son, realising everything would've been perfect if it was just a normal weekend.

So much had happened during the course of the week, normality being pushed aside by the harshness of reality as quick as a heartbeat. One second they were safe and protected, the next they were in danger and doubts. That was the reality of being a spy. You never stopped being one. And by walking away you only put your family in danger. There was no way out, no way to become so completely normal when you were, and still are, a spy. It was just who they were. Clara looked down at his tiny, calm face, wanting nothing else but for him to be safe, for him to never find out about his heritage. But how could she prevent that? It was in his blood. He might grow up to never know their life of action and danger, but he could unknowingly shoot and reload a gun like a professional because it was simply in his nature.

'Spying runs in the family, little Smith.' She whispered, and sighing, she fell back asleep.

••••

'Dad?' She called over the phone.

'Hello?' A voice came from the other end.

'Hi dad.' She said, a smile at the sound of his voice appearing.

'Clara? How are you, are you okay?'

'Well...no actually. It's something very important.'

'That fella of yours hasn't left you, has he? Because if he has I will knock the bastard's teeth out-'

'No! No, no, no, John is still here, you are not knocking his teeth out. And don't call him a bastard again!'

'Fine, what's the matter, sweetheart?'

'Well, Missy has escaped.'

Silence. She couldn't tell if he was going to shout or simply stay shocked.

'And what is going to be done about that?'

'She's in Spain, so we're going over there. With David.'

'What? No, you can't, I won't let you! This is between Missy and you're fella, you don't need to be dragged into it. How did he persuade you to come with him? And why the hell are you taking David?'

'It's not, and she will come here for us, anyway. And it was my idea, dad. He didn't want me to go, and I was the one who suggested we bring Dave.'

'What? Why?'

'Look, there is a certain chance we will die, and a certain chance we will live. And if that chance is not in our favour he needs someone. You. He's coming to Spain so either way, we can still spend a little bit of his Christmas together. And that's what I wanted to ask you. Will you come to Spain with us and look after Dave while we're...out?'

'Clara, are you sure-'

'I am 100% sure. You may not like him, but I would do anything for him, which means I'm going to fight by his side and die by his side if it happens. Nothing is going to stop me.' She did determinedly.

'I don't want you to throw yourself recklessly at her and get yourself killed. Please tell me you have some sort of logic to it. I don't want you to die, promise me you won't die.'

'We're doing everything we can. And I can't make that promise, you know that, dad. After all, it's in our blood.'

'Spying runs in the family.' He said softly. 'Both sides. Which would make Dave one heck of a spy!'

'He is not going to grow up a spy.'

'But like you say, it's in our blood. Double dose for David.'

'Look, will you help us or not?'

'You're my daughter and he's my grandchild, of course I'll help you.'

She took in a sigh of relief.

'Thank you.'

'Don't mention it. I'm always here, if you need me. I would love to spend some more time with my grandson.'

'Don't forget, stock up on weapons, just in case.'

'What do you think I am, a beginner? I was the one teaching you back in the days.'

'Don't, you make me feel old.'

'That's one I want you to feel. I want you to grow older and die naturally, not die young and not being able to live your life fully.'

'I'll see what I can do.'

'You better, kid.'

'Thanks dad.'

'Bye for now.' And he hung up the phone.

She turned round to face John.

'What did he say?'

'He said yes.'

He smiled, putting all the weapons into a bag.

He turned to David who was sitting in his chair.

'Did you hear that, Dave? Grandaddies' coming to Spain!' He said, his Scottish heritage clear in the way he said it. He chucked David under the chin and grinned at him, only Clara noticing the pain in his eyes. He turned back to what he was doing, watching Clara.

'It's nice to know I'm still your dad's favourite.' He smirked, shoving in a shotgun into the bag.

'Oh, you heard that.' She said, her hands covering her face.

'Nice to know I'm still a bastard. And that it's only a few hours I have to put up with him.'

'Oi, be nice,' she said, pointing a finger at him, 'he's looking after our child.'

He nodded, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration at what he was doing.

'So we're all going to Spain in a normal aeroplane as normal passengers,' he began, trying to push two rifles in. Clara went over to help him, 'and our weapons are going to be transported by UNIT in their helicopter. Once off the plane we'll be driven to a secluded but quite nice hotel.' She looked up at him, raising her eyebrow. 'And no, your dad isn't sharing a room with us,' he added, and Clara sighed in relief.

'We got one day to spend, and then it's going to be all our tactics set into place. Ironic that Christmas Eve will either be the fall of a psychopath or two spies, isn't it?'

She didn't say anything, just let him carry on.

The rest of the day was spent going over details and poring over maps of Spain, plotting out certain places and trying out schemes like they had last time, only now it was harder as they took it in turns to do whatever it was for David. Finally, it was bedtime, and she set him down in his cot, watching him wriggle about before finding a comfortable position, much like John.

She looked at his calm, beautiful face, oblivious to what was happening around him. She envied him.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Today was it. John got up early, packing his bag with as much as he could while watching Clara sleep.

He shuffled around the room, grabbing things and packing more until Clara's eyes fluttered open. Stretching out her arms she realised what was happening, and set about to get dressed and help him. It was approximately 5am, and John still felt overwhelmingly tired since they had been up since eleven working out plans. He could tell it was affecting Clara too as her eyes were drooping and her hand movements were slow, but she was relatively okay.

The first thing she noticed when she came to was John rushing around the bedroom in his spy clothes, the red velvet jacket, plaid trousers and RayBans which she had just realised she had missed. All of a sudden she was preparing and packing as yawning while she did it. They had agreed to get the earliest plane they could so they arrived early. Clara reluctantly woke David from sleep and rocked him in her arms as he began to wail.

'Shh, shh, it's okay...it's okay,' she whispered, trying to soothe him enough to stop crying. She held him tighter, wishing everything could return to what it used to be. She got him dressed and packed quickly, then geared up in her own clothes. They were in the car by 5:45 and Clara drove them to the airport, her spare hand clasped in John's. It was boarding the aeroplane that she started to feel nervous. Her breathing became louder and she was reminded of her minor panic when on aeroplanes. It wasn't a fear, exactly, she just got nervous. She stepped inside the aeroplane and John held onto her hand again, helping her calm down.

'You are sitting in the middle.' He pointed, taking the seat by the window.

'I'm not sitting near him.'

'Be nice.' She warned, bouncing David on her knee.

'I'm Scottish, I complain about things.'

'Yeah, well it's only a few hours.'

A familiar face made it's way over, and Clara's father sat down next to her, kissing her cheek.

'Are you okay?'

'I'm fine.'

'And how's my baby grandson?' He asked, picking David up and smiling at him.

'I think you've grown a little bit, haven't you?' He said.

'David #2. Has he been good?'

'Yeah, he's been okay.' She nodded. He handed him back to her and looked over to John.

'John.' He said curtly.

'Dave.' He said back.

'For god's sake, you're both spies! I thought you would be talking about different types of guns and knives.'

'Yeah well, he hasn't exactly been my favourite person since the reason we're here is only because he made friends with a psychopath. That has nothing to do with you.'

'I am here, you know.' John replied, his accent sounding insulting of its own accord.

'I am involved since I was assigned the case in the first place anyway, and John wasn't to know his childhood friend had suddenly turned psycho. If it wasn't for him I'd be dead.'

'Well if you hadn't have met him...'

'I am still here!' John shouted. 'Don't blame me for what's happened! You raised your daughter to become a spy, and she is one. We both are, and we would probably both be dead if it wasn't for each other. So don't give me any of that crap-'

'Shut up! I am sick of the insults. Dad, I am definitely involved, and John, don't shout. Three spies on a plane and this is the best you can do?'

'Four spies on a plane.' Her father said.

'David is not a spy!'

Both Dave and John looked at baby David in that moment, who was kicking his legs like crazy and making hand gestures that made it look like he was firing a gun. They both looked at each other, actually agreeing, and sat back in their chairs with a satisfying sigh.

Clara looked down at her son. He had her brown eyes and nose, but she reckoned (and hoped) he would inherit John's curly hair.

The plane started ascending and she handed David to John, as her breathing became louder again and her hands tightened around the armrests.

At the exact same time both the men took her hand to comfort her, and she saw the look they shared before she breathed 'Cut it out.'

Reclining back in her seat she relaxed a little once they were up in the air.

She started talking to her father while John played with David and lifted him up so he could see out of the window. She got the sense he was feeling left out, so she held his hand, tracing patterns over it soothingly while talking to Dave, who narrowed his eyes but said nothing about it. It went on for a an hour or so until John had fallen asleep and was snoring.

'Does he always snore this loud?' He asked, watching John with disapproving eyes.

'Could you please just be nice to him? Or at least civil.'

'I can't be. I can hardly look at him knowing he's going to get you killed.'

'He's not getting me killed. He's getting me safe. All of us safe. And If I do die, I'm the one who chose to do this, so please...for me...be kind to him.'

'I just keep thinking...what if he comes back and you don't? I don't think I can keep that promise long enough to refrain from strangling him.'

'If he survives and I don't, you are NOT strangling him or inflicting any kind of physical or mental pain on him. Especially mental, because he will blame it entirely on himself.'

'So he should.'

'Don't.' She said, shaking her head.

'Fine. I'll be 'civil' to him. But if anything happens, anything, I won't be as forgiving.'

She sighed, giving up. 'Okay.'

'And I don't want you talking about death or morbidity or pessimism.'

'That's what John says. That I think too pessimistically.' She said with a small smile, glancing over at him, David wrapped in his arms.

'Well, at least he's got one thing right.'

Clara looked at the three people she loved most in the world. Despite the horror-filled anticipation of facing Missy again, she allowed herself a moment of happiness.

••••

She was woken up by John, leaning in to kiss her cheek while cautiously catching the eye of her father. She held David in her arms which helped her panic less about their descent into foreign land. Once thankfully off the plane she looked around at the country they had arrived in. It was beautiful, even at the airport. The humid air made her feel calm and warmed her skin considerably. She pointed things out to David, smiling at his gurgling and explaining to him that he was 'on holiday.' She saw John and Dave's faces grow sadder when she said it.

They picked up their suitcases in no time and were off to the hotel. Clara felt like she was actually on holiday, and the thought brought a burst of pain when she realised once again the risks they were taking. Missy. The most cold-hearted, evil person she had ever met in her life. And she had met a few.

It was around 7pm now and the sun had almost risen. The sky was painted it's rich blue, beautiful glowing red and orange, clouds streaked with pink and yellow.

'It's certainly warmer here.' John commented.

'Yeah. Some part of me still misses the snow.' She smirked. He agreed with her and looked out through the window to see villages, towns, houses, greenery. Everyone most likely asleep.

'We have the whole day now. With David.' He said, taking her hand.

'I know.'

'And then we're going to put our actions into place. We'll work out the finishing touches later this evening.'

She nodded, still looking out the window. John knew how she was feeling, so didn't bother in asking if she was alright. Because none of them were. And even if he had asked she would probably get pissed off with him and it was the last thing he wanted on a potential last day.

Finally, they reached the hotel which looked very big and grand. Marble mosaics and an indoor plant that was the main attraction in the centre of the room standing out, but she couldn't make herself pay attention. There were more pressing matters on her mind.

Clara yawned as they walked up the stairs to the third floor, where they had been told security were keeping trained eyes on the outside corridor to their rooms. Dave walked into the room next to theirs, and they did the same. It was relatively big, with a separate bedroom for David and even a TV. Clara sat on the bed, putting her bag down and closing her eyes briefly. John set the infant down and embraced her as no other emotion other than pure sadness overwhelmed her.

'I wish this could have been a normal holiday.' She whispered into his chest.

'I know, me too.' He whispered back, kissing her head.

'Its going to be tough. It's going to be horrifying. But we still have today, and we should treat it like a holiday. Forget about what's coming, and we can spend the whole day we've got happily. After all, Christmas in Spain...it sounds nice.'

She nodded. 'Okay. And as it's early morning, I'm going to bed.' She picked David up and carried him to the bedroom, placing him in a cot and kissing his forehead.

'He needs his sleep.' She said, walking desperately to the bed and collapsing in it.

'Wake me up when it's breakfast.' She said, ruffling his hair. Her head hit the pillows and then she was fast asleep.

••••

They heard a sleepy sigh from behind them, and turned round to see Clara waking and stretching. She stared at the two of them, hair in her eyes.

'Since when have you worked together?' She smirked.

'We're trying to sort out some routes, stuff like that. After all, it is a foreign country.' Her father said.

She walked over to them, leaning over his shoulder and looking at what they had planned. A small hand flew upwards to knock her hand and she smiled. Picking him up from his knee, she asked 'when did he wake up?'

'About half an hour ago.'

'And don't tell me he ain't a spy. Waving his hands about everywhere. We had to keep picking things up from the floor.' Dave said.

Working with him had been a lot easier than he realised, but it didn't lessen his dislike toward him. He had found out that some of his tactics were very useful, so it had also gained him information. He turned round to her, smiling at her bedhead. 'Want any breakfast?'

She nodded, and they brought up something to eat.

John soon after stopped what he was doing and took his son from her arms, lifting him up in the air and catching him, a huge smile on his face as he looked at him adoringly. Seeking his hair he told him they'd go swimming, a reply of gurgles agreeing with him.

He dressed him in a tiny sunsuit and put an over sized hat on his head. Laughing, he played peekaboo with him, not realising Clara was standing there watching him until David turned round and pointed to her.

'Yeah, that's right. That's mummy, I'm daddy, that's grandaddy, and this,' he said, poking him in the stomach, 'is David Johnny Smith.' He smiled, watching him play with his feet.

'Look at you, huh?' She said, picking him up from the floor, 'perfect to go swimming.'

'I'll be here when you get back.' Her father said, concentrating on the map.'

'Okay.'

John dived in to the pool, the calm water disrupted by crashes as he went underwater. Coming back up, he flattened his hair, which looked completely different. She laughed and held David tight as she submerged herself in water.

They swam with David, playing games, making him laugh. The sun shined down on them and John forgot the real reason he was here. Taking him in his arms he watched Clara swim underwater, elegant and lithe and beautiful, and he watched her as she pushed back her hair from her face and swam back to them. He held onto her as they watched David kick his legs and gurgling with happiness, which made them laugh and smile.

Wrapping a towel round him he suggested they find ice creams. He watched as Clara fed him the ice cream, which he seemed to enjoy.

Then came lunch and then came dinner, all too soon putting David to bed and watching the sun go down from the small balcony they had. As the sky lit up in fluorescent colours, he turned to her, smiling sadly.

'We should probably get to work.' He said. She didn't look at him as she nodded, and he knew she was thinking the same thing he was. They were going to kill Missy for everything she had done and put them through, even if it was the last thing they did. They looked at each other with determination and went back inside, getting straight to work.

••••

Three hours later and they were still working their way through plans. She refused to get tired, the notion of keeping David safe driving her onwards, making her brain work faster.

As they went over the last detail, he looked at her sadly.

'We have no idea what she's doing, or what she's got planned herself. I just hope this works.' He said, placing his head on hers. She looked at him, feeling a strong pull of basorexia in the pit of her stomach. All she did was caress his cheek, but a stronger desire pulled at her, and she was only vaguely aware of what she was doing until her lips crushed his and she was sitting on his lap. He touched her fervently and her legs tightened round his waist. John was just as enthusiastic as she was, and kissed her neck, her face, everywhere he could reach to. Her fingers once again entangled in his curly hair, he lifted her up and walked backwards until he hit the bed and he lowered himself into it, holding her tightly while she kissed him unstoppably. He caressed her body with swift movements and small kisses that made her heart ache with longing. She laid atop him, her tongue meeting his as they danced almost furiously together, and her hands teased him at his shirt collar. Slowly undoing the buttons she felt his hands roam lower and lower down her body until they were at her thighs. Restraining him she tore off his shirt and let her hands slide over his chest, going over every muscle achingly slow, teasing him and driving him mad. He squeezed her thighs and threaded his fingers through her hair as she kissed him even harder. She felt hands underneath her top while he peppered kisses all over her neck and chest as she removed the offending piece of clothing and let him take control momentarily as he touched her upper torso, looking at her lovingly and unclasping her bra, smiling at her with the famous smile she couldn't resist. She removed his belt with a wicked grin and threw it on the floor. His hands were everywhere on her, making her sigh into his ear with pleasure and beginning to do the buttons on his trousers. Pulling them down as quickly as he could she could see the hunger in his eyes which must have been reflected in her own. She crashed down on him, every inch of her body touching his until they realised that her lower torso was still covered. Smiling against his mouth she guided his hands to her skirt and helped him remove it from her. Kicking their shoes and socks off he rolled over so she was now underneath him, and teased her until she whispered his name in his ear. She carefully removed both of their underwear and sighed as he stroked her hair. All she knew was that John was making her feel so special and loved, and she let him enter her with a gasp of pleasure, her fingers clinging onto his back and exploring every part of his mouth as she could.

'Clara.' He groaned breathlessly.

He made her name sound so beautiful in his Scottish accent. He exclaimed it louder until she stopped him, giggling.

'I think I've just remembered my father is in the next room.' She whispered.

He smiled down at her, past caring about anything else but her.

'Oh well.' He replied, and she shouted his own name as her climax reached her and she looked into his eyes, watching her adoringly like she was worth more than the richest of treasures, his eyebrows softening and his hair rumpled beneath her fingers. She giggled, shamelessly kissing him again with something a lot more than passion as the clock stroke twelve and the night was almost silent.

••••

He woke up with Clara laying on top of him, her hair messy yet incredibly sexy as it curled all round his neck. He had his arms round her bare back, his neck almost touching her head and their legs tangled up in each other. He looked down at her, smiling fondly and kissing her hair for the umpteenth time since last night. He remembered vaguely what had happened. They were sitting at the table, when all of a sudden Clara was on his lap. He recalled small things, like the way her hands seemed to settle at his thighs or the way she shouted his name in pleasure. Closing his eyes, he realised he probably would be killed before he could even get to Missy. He should probably have listened to Clara when she mentioned her dad was in the next room. He sighed, his hands covering his face in shame. He was in for it now. John really hoped he hadn't heard him shout his daughter's name in pleasure multiple times throughout the night. He sincerely hoped not.

Clara nuzzled his chest with her nose, her eyes fluttering open and her hands reaching up to kiss him like they had not a few hours prior.

'Are you okay?' He asked between kisses.

'I'm fine.' She replied.

'Today.' He said, not able to say anything more.

'Today.' She agreed.

He rubbed her arms, warming her and making her smile. He looked up at those eyes that had captivated and hypnotised him so completely, and felt the influence take over him.

'We should probably get dressed.' He said, holding her tight to him despite.

'Yeah.' She agreed.

A few moments later when they were dressed and hungry, they walked out the door and straight into Dave. He stared at him murderously, his breathing loud and his face slightly red.

'I hardly slept at all last night.' He said, looking at him with disapprovingly cold and disgust-filled eyes. If looks could kill, he thought. He would already be incinerated and thrown carelessly into the pit.

'Thought I heard David screaming.' He smirked angrily. John hurried away, looking at Clara as they both felt embarrassment burn their cheeks.

Turning away from his stare, they took as long as they could to get breakfast before returning to their room. Dave was in his grandson's bedroom watching over him, and he thankfully didn't acknowledge they were there.

He decided he would just carry on with the day like nothing happened. Plus, he needed to stay focused. Today was the day he lived or died.

They prepared everything down to the finest detail.

A note arrived at the door, and taking it cautiously in a gloved hand (just in case) he read the elegant and fancy script inside that read 'Come find me! You will never go home again!'

His eyes widened in horror and he looked at Clara, showing her the letter.

'You will never go home again...' She said, fear striking in her eyes.

'She's telling you she is confident in killing you.' Dave answered, not exactly making eye contact but walking toward him and taking the letter.

'No.' He said. 'She's giving us a clue.'

'Why would she give you a clue?'

He shrugged. 'She's that sort of person.'

'Wait...you will never go home again...maybe not just if she kills us...maybe she's saying that even if we survive we can't. But how...' And then her eyes widened, looking at him with despair. 'She's at the airport. And she's going to crash a plane. Making sure we never return home again.'

He saw her round face, staring up at him with hopelessness. He knew she was thinking of David. He moved toward her, enveloping her in his arms comfortingly and kissing the top of her head lightly.

A cough came from beside her, and Dave finally looked at them albeit dangerously. He watched him as he slowly let go of Clara and stepped away from her, all the while his eyes glared back at him.

'She is my wife, you know.'

'And she's my daughter.' He said, stepping toward him threateningly and raising his chin. He arched an eyebrow.

'Are you honestly trying to threaten me?' He laughed.

'Boy, you may be a good spy, but I am older and more experienced than you. I know things and I can do things you wouldn't be able to dream of.' He smirked.

Stepping closer to his father-in-law, he wiggled his attack eyebrows mockingly.

'Well if you did you would have been a lot more of a beneficial help to us.' He taunted. Dave's jaw tightened, his eyes dancing with a retort.

'Well, if I'm so unimportant, why did you name your son after me?'

'We did not name our son after you!' He laughed, 'we named our son after-'

'Alright!' Clara shouted, coming in between them and pushing both men away from each other.

'That's quite enough testosterone, thank you.'

John turned away first, straightening his jacket and looking at the map.

'Yes ma'am.' He muttered.

'Right.' She said, walking over to him.

'So, the airport. If we can get there before-'

'She's already doing it. She's in the act right now. We need to get there.'

'Okay.' She nodded, springing into action. Readying her weapons, she kissed her father on the cheek and told him to keep safe, and make sure David doesn't eat any spark plugs.

He looked at her, and she sort of smiled back.

'Ready?' He asked.

'As I'll ever be.' She replied, and they ran out of the room, racing down the stairs and exposing themselves to the Spanish heat, rushing to the airport together.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Caution: use of strong language

A/N - I don't know anything about real places in Spain. I've made them up purely for the story.

Even though they had studied the map until their eyes were sore and their heads hurt, Spain was still a huge maze to them. They ran across roads, and through markets, pushing people aside with no remorse. It was a painful job, being a spy, and not just physically. You sometimes had only bad choices, but you still had to choose. That was what John told her, and she believed ever word. Occasionally stopping for directions from some of the locals (who they didn't push aside) they raced to the airport and ran toward the runways. She let go of his hand, and dashed to the plane, finally reaching and searching it. They couldn't find any kind of exploding device.

'Right. Inside. It could be inside.'

They searched everywhere they could reach for a good hour, but neither a bomb or Missy was there, except some if her henchmen who they shot down.

'I've no idea where it could be.'

'Wait...' She said, squinting her eyes toward the racks of suitcases, 'we haven't checked the bags.' She looked at him, and he at her. They used a tool they had designed exactly for this purpose: to unlock unlock-able objects.

They searched through each one, to no avail. Then they heard a beeping noise. It was steady, slow, but definitely there. Clara's breath caught in her throat. It was bound to go off any minute, imploding the building with them inside.

'Clara, go, now. Get out of here. That bomb will explode.'

'I'm not leaving you! I told you, I survive with you, or I die with you. There is no alternative, okay? Where is that thing coming from?'

They raced around the building, until Clara heard the pulse getting louder.

'Over here!' She shouted, and John brandished the unlocking instrument. The door swung open, but only to a set of thicker, stronger iron doors. He tried to unlock them as well, but they didn't budge.

'Do we use our bomb?' She asked, taking out the small circular device. John looked at it, sighing heavily.

'We're going to have to.'

It was a small bomb that was supposed to minimise the explosion so it only caused so much damage. They had no idea if it would work, but they were desperate. And foolish enough to take the risk. Clara stuck it to the iron door, and they both stood behind the wall. She pressed a button on a trigger device and a small yet impressive explosion erupted from the doors. They turned to see what effect it had caused. Apparently there were five more doors, sealed and intensively locked. Behind the mess of scorched metal lying broken on the floor, was the bomb. It ticked loudly and displayed the time they had left with which to deactivate it: 54 seconds.

Grasping for the contraption she hurriedly put it over the bomb and wired it up. 10 seconds. John pressed the button. The ticking stopped. Clara drew a sigh of relief and put the bomb safely in her bag.

They made a massive fire just outside of the airport so Missy would think it had been destroyed. They ran off to find her, when a ringing noise sounded but stopped before she could answer it.

'John.'

Her hands fiddled with the mouthpiece.

'I think it was my dad.'

'Calling you?'

'Yes.'

John paused, his heart hammering just as much as hers was.

'He's fine.' He concluded.

'How do you know?'

'He's a spy! Has been for most of his life, like us. He knows how to defend himself. And as much as I don't like him, I know he will protect David.'

She looked at him helplessly. She knew he was right, that nothing could have happened.

'But what if something had happened?' She said heartbrokenly, unable to feel anything but an incredible weight of over-protectiveness and worry.

'Clara.' he walked up to her, his hands on either side if her shoulders. She looked up at him, at his clear blue eyes.

'Nothing will happen to David. I promise. Or your father. We need to find Missy. Plus, she doesn't know David's here.'

She nodded slowly, still acknowledging the pain and worry in her stomach.

•••••

They set off again, and John knew exactly where she would be. There was a bridge named 'Puento de la Scot' (puento meaning bridge in Spanish), and he knew it would be where she was waiting. As he ran, he felt guilt wash through him, cascading all the way down his body like a tsunami. Clara's father was right. He had endangered his own family just because he was alive. Just because his childhood friend wanted to burn down the world and rule with him by her side. He couldn't let it happen. He wouldn't let it happen. He held Clara's warm hand, leading her in the direction he was going. He had memorised the route from every possible place he could think of so he knew more or less which way to turn. But it was so much more difficult than tracing out lines on a map. Finally they made it to the bridge.

•••••

Clara trusted John in his decision to get to the bridge. She trusted that he knew Missy well enough to know she would be there. She trusted every direction lead her to in order to find out if he'd been right. And he had.

Clara froze in terror. She wanted to faint, wanted to die. John's hand tightened round her wrist but it didn't restrain her from leaping forward in an attempt to strangle her to the ground.

'Now, that's very rude.' She said, and then she glanced up at John. 'Miss me?'

Clara felt the dread and anger and rage and hate pounding in her heart as she looked into her son's wailing face.

'Give him back You. Fucking. Evil. Bitch.' Clara said, gritting her teeth and her eyes enraged with fire. Her cheeks were turning red in anger and her fingernails dug painfully into her palm while her fists shook.

'You're not going to talk to me like that if you want little baby Smith back.'

She snapped her fingers and a man came up behind her and held her back tight so she couldn't escape. She stared up into her dad's face, blank and completely unaware of what he was doing. Clara knew she shouldn't have taken the phone call lightly. She wanted to murder herself for it. John was also held back, and she turned round just enough to see his livid face burn up and his whole body frozen with horror. They couldn't escape. She had got the whole bridge on lockdown so even of they could somehow break away from their captor's grip they couldn't get far. Clara couldn't cry. She physically couldn't cry from all the anger and hatred she felt. Missy teased the both of them by lifting David over the edge of the bridge where he dangled twenty feet above the water. Clara screamed, her strangled and broken voice crying out in a guttural moan of despair and dread. John shouted in a howl of protests. Missy laughed and he struggled hard as he could against the captor holding him, his teeth bared.

'So,' she said, returning David into her arms and smiling at him. Clara felt sick. So sick, she couldn't actually make herself become physically sick. 'Help me destroy the planet or watch your son die...your choice.'

Clara had never wanted to die as much as she did now.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

His lips trembled. He could feel the pure hatred bubbling in his chest, raw panic overwhelming his senses and his mind set on murder. He struggled against the blank-faced guard holding him once again, but it no way lessened their grip. He had often heard the expression 'quaking in your boots' but only just understood it's definition. His whole body was screaming and his eyes were aflame. He watched Missy hold his son as if he were her own and it made him sick.

'H-h-h-h...' He began, trying to force his words out and act with more confidence, even though he was crumbling inside, 'how did you capture-' his voice broke. Clara hardly looked at him, but he most certainly looked at her and he could see it had had the exact same effect on her as it had him. Maybe even worse.

'How did I capture your son?' She laughed, an octave higher than usual, almost like she had been practicing it.

'Those guards that were keeping you safe? Yeah, they were my boys.'

'But they can't have been. They were UNIT men.'

'Unfortunately, UNIT has been corrupted.' She retaliated. 'No calling for help, no cheesy mid-air arrests, no annoying helicopters. Just you, me, your son, your wife, and one big decision to make.' She smiled.

'What if I properly agree to come to Scotland with you?'

'Ah well, missed your chance, I'm afraid. Instead you get to decide the fate of the world! How about that, hm? You always dreamed of being someone important when you were younger.'

The painfully familiar Scottish accent didn't make anything easier.

'So, are you done yet? Have you made your decision? As much as I'd love to catch up, I am very busy today. What's it going to be? Save your boy...or save over seven billion other people.'

Finally Clara turned to him. Her helpless face and enormous eyes were enough to bring an army to tears. But instead of crying, he was choking and stumbling upon his incoherent words that couldn't be described. It was like saving an innocent life, a baby, but having the weight of the world upon their shoulders and he was sure they would choose their survival over him. But he was their son. And no one could understand that.

Missy tutted impatiently, 'I tell you what. If you do decide to save David, I will let you live. I'll give you a second chance. You could say, The Last King of Scotland. Now that's catchy.'

'I am not going to be,' he gritted his teeth, 'the last of my species.'

'Oh no? What makes you so sure?'

He looked at Clara, and she stared back for the moment before nodding confidently.

'This.' He said, and he jabbed a needle with a blue-translucent substance which made the guard release him and stand back. Clara did the same and she could see the relief on her face as she looked up into her father. Missy stared agape, backing into the wall as they approached her.

'See, we knew you were controlling them.' He told her.

'So we worked on an antidote.' Clara added.

'It will cause a lot of pain in a few hours because it isn't exactly supposed to be in a human body,' he turned toward Dave, 'but you will certainly live.'

'We didn't know you would go this far,' Clara fumed, walking toward her with the gait of a predator, 'but I will make sure you are definitely, definitely, ever coming back. And we mean it this time.' She stared into her eyes, the same colour as John's but darker with the intention of murder, 'how dare you think of killing our son. How fucking dare you.' She whispered venomously.

John walked up behind Clara, staring at his childhood friend with the same sharp look.

'But we still knew,' he raised an eyebrow cleverly, 'one way or another, you would try and use him against us. We didn't know what you would do, but we knew it would be best to keep him safe. And that's why,' he said, Clara picking up the end of the sentence, 'he has a weapon.'

Missy still held David and looked at them with something close to horror.

'And you say I'm mad?' She asked, laughing, 'you've put a weapon on your son.'

'Oh, I don't think you'll be laughing at all soon.'

'Well I can't see anything. Nothing to suggest he has a knife or a bomb or-'

'You activated it.'

'WHAT?'

'You've caused your own death without knowing it. Save's us going to prison, save's you ever coming back...'

'H-how?'

John laughed. 'You're holding him right now. See, we put a fingerprint scanner on him, admittedly invisible. When it finds the exact same fingerprint, it sends a laser to your body and stops your heart.'

'He's your son, and you've turned him into a murder weapon. You're just as bad as me.' She hissed.

'No,' Clara interjected, her face cold but calm, 'because he is David Johnny Smith. He is the son of two international spies and he is one himself.'

'The Impossible Doctor.' He stared triumphantly at Missy, as she turned to both of them with her mouth slightly open.

'Spying runs in the family.' John admitted, smiling slightly at Clara.

But of course, it wasn't over. Missy would never accept her own death without killing another. And he knew that. So that was why he saw it coming a second after it did.

Missy stared once more at him, a wicked, cruel smile returning on her face. She threw David over the edge, and John reacted instantly. He launched himself over, catching David in midair and feeling the wind whip through his hair as they dropped thirty feet from the ground. He held on to his son as he was pummelled full speed and crashed into the waves, back-first, protecting David on his front. He went under briefly, and he could hear his name shouted vaguely in the background. He resurfaced, gasping, holding David close to him. He swam a the way back to shore, his arms and legs never giving up or faltering from determination and of course, a swimming certificate. Clara was waiting for them, and she threw herself into him in a bone-crushing embrace, despite being wet. His hair was flattened and darker, his small smile and ragged breaths piercing the air. David was grouped between them, and John could feel Clara's pounding heart as she embraced them both with relief. Even Dave sort of awkwardly smiled at him, which was probably as much affection as he would get.

They finally walked back up to the bridge, where a body lay like a rag doll on the floor. She would never know if they had survived or not, and John guessed at least, she deserved that.

'Is UNIT disposing the body?' She asked.

'Yeah. Not sure what they're gonna do with her.'

'I've just got a report,' Dave interrupted, 'They managed to use the antidotes. They're all alive and well.'

John nodded, still staring at the discarded corpse in front of them.

'That's good.'

He pressed his thumb where the invisible scanner was on David's wrist, and took it off him. He walked forward and knelt, placing it beside Missy's body and knowing it would have been what she had wanted, to have been killed with a weapon. He didn't want to give her anything she wanted, but it felt right.

'I am never, ever, ever going to forgive you,' he whispered to the corpse, his head hung and his voice low so no one could hear him, 'but know that I am still sorry.'

'They'll be here in a minute.' Dave told him.

He straightened and retreated back to her side, and Clara looked up at him, rubbing his shoulder and still holding David tensely in her arms.

'I don't want to see that.' He said, and turned round. He didn't want to see UNIT, he didn't want to see the death checks or the way they handled the body. He didn't want to see anything. He only wanted to see his family's face's and the inside of a hotel room.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

As soon as they got back it was mostly hugs and small reassurances. John still looked on grimly but let Clara know he was ecstatically happy to be alive with her through the strong hugs and gentle kisses. There was silence, actions speaking indefinitely louder than they're words and every emotion seemed to dwell in the pit of his stomach and ensnare all other senses. He felt a lot more happy and lucky than he looked or let on because it was mostly trauma that plagued him. The trauma of seeing the bomb at the airport, the trauma of seeing his son dangling over the water, trauma of Missy's dead body lying on the ground, his once childhood friend. The Last King of Scotland played repeatedly in his head, her voice sounding less familiar with each time it replayed. But it was so much more to hold Clara in his arms, finally protected and definitely safe, finally feeling at ease as he did, but feeling also as traumatised as well.

David was stroked, hugged, kissed and held before he was reluctantly put to bed. They knew he was probably crushed from tiredness and John knew he would sleep peacefully well up until dinner time.

Dave sat in the chair next to the table, head hung and hands clasped. He finally was able to look up at his daughter and son-in-law, and he looked at a loss for words, which was definitely unusual. Finally though, he managed to speak.

'I just wanted you to know that you did brilliantly.'

He looked meaningfully at him, almost with approval.

'Both of you. Even David. Not only did you save yourselves and myself, you saved seven billion other people who are strangers to you and the only earth we will ever have. So, what I'm trying to say is, on behalf of the rest of the world, I am massively grateful. You were absolutely amazing and I am more than thankful you're both alive.' His words were choked at the end and he lowered his head again. Clara walked up to him and gave him a hug, and John could see the relief in which he held her. Dave Oswald was never one to cry, but now small tears were snaking down his face and into his daughters shoulder. Once he had withdrew from her embrace he stared at him, and he stared back.

Dave walked up to him, telling him he was sorry for not trusting him and for the grudging disapproval he had set between him and Clara. John took his hand, and shook it, but Dave pulled him into a hug that he must have admitted, warmed his heart. Clara smiled at him from his shoulder, and when they let go he explained he would treat him a lot better than he did, which not only made Clara happy, but also himself at finally being accepted in the Oswald family.

But the pleasantries were soon cut short, when Dave staggered back drunkenly and fell to the floor, writhing in pain. Clara shouted in alarm and knelt by his head, holding his hands to check his veins. John crouched down as well, placing his hands over his heart to check the beat.

'It's the antidote. I told you it will give you pain for a few hours, but that's it. Don't worry, you're going to be fine.' He consoled his father-in-law, hauling him up and setting him in the chair again. He was only half-conscious and his head lolled forward.

'Are you sure he's alright?' Clara asked worriedly.

'Yes, he'll be fine. He just needs some rest and some water to flush out the antidote. Don't worry, Clara,' he said, holding her hand, 'he'll be fine.'

She looked at him with her trusting brown eyes and called for help courtesy of the hotel. They took him to his bedroom and gave him special treatment. All they could do was wait for the pain to pass and he would be up and running in no time.

John guessed there was never anything not to worry about.

••••

Clara sat beside her father, watching him sleep. His breathing became shallow and he looked pale as a ghost, which worried her a lot. It was overbearingly frustrating that even though they had stopped Missy and come out of it alive, something else always had to happen to prolong their pain. Clara didn't feel relieved at all as she watched her father breathe ragged breaths.

She turned her head. John walked in, carrying David in his arms. She stood t hug him, as she had been doing every time she saw his face.

'Are you okay?' He asked softly. She didn't say anything, just looked back at her father.

'Clara, he's going to be okay. It might look like he won't recover but he will.' She nodded half-heartedly and sat back down in the chair.

'Can I get you anything?'

She shook her head. John rocked David from side to side and by the way he was lying still she guessed he was asleep. A small smile appeared, but then went as quickly as it came.

'Clara-'

'What if he doesn't recover?' She asked him, her eyes closed. The words came out in a rush and she fiddled with her hands at times of being nervous.

'He will, I promise-'

'But what if he doesn't? What if, after everything, he is the one that dies and we're the ones left living with it?'

'You're thinking too pessimistically again, Clara.'

'But I'm not. I'm being realistic. What if he doesn't?'

John walked over to her and she felt his arms wrapping around her body like a protective shield.

'He will.'

She sighed into his chest, mentally punishing herself for her depressing attitude.

'Sorry.' She told him.

'For what?'

'I should be so relieved and happy and yet I just feel upset that he is unwell when we were the ones to drag him into this.'

'I know. I'm feeling the same.'

'John?' She said, looking up at him.

'Yeah?'

'I am grateful...God, I am so fucking grateful. I just can't-'

'Yeah, me too. I think we'll feel better once he's well again.'

'I've missed it.' She says into his chest, barely a whisper.

'What?'

'Is it bad that I've missed doing this stuff? The danger is numerously petrifying but I've missed so much if the action, the adrenaline, the running in high heels. And I know that I am an...extremely bad parent and person for wanting this life again. But I can't let David fall into danger anymore, and I would rather die than change that.'

'It's not bad. I've been thinking about if myself, and I know how you feel. You are not a bad parent, Clara or a bad person. You are the most extraordinary person and loving mother I have ever met so don't ever think that about yourself. But I wish I could do it again, too. David isn't going anywhere out of sight until he's old enough, and I don't know about you, but we were building an amazing, normal life there and I don't want to miss one second of it.' He said, kissing her forehead.

'Then let's stick to it,' She smiled,

'Because I love it too.'

They looked at each other a while before John's face grew in surprise.

'You know I almost forgot it's Christmas?' John said, changing the subject and wiggling his mighty eyebrows.

'Oh my god, it is isn't it? It's Christmas Day tomorrow!'

'Clara?'

'Yeah?'

'Shall we spend Christmas in Spain?'

She paused, not knowing what to think. She let him carry on.

'UNIT told me we could stay for a month for free as a holiday - courtesy of them. I didn't want to jump into it without asking you.'

She deliberated. She had longed to go on holiday with her boys, and now she could, at Christmas, with heat instead of cold and a whole month of having nothing to worry about. Plus, UNIT really owed them more favours. David lay sleeping on his shoulder, and she stroked him tenderly while replying her answer.

'That would be amazing. Whole month of relaxation, we need this, John. We really need it. David's first Christmas too, in Spain! Much more exciting.'

'Yeah?' He asked, smiling stupidly.

'What other chance will we get?'

'Brilliant. We finally get a holiday. You know I was actually going to surprise you with a holiday this year, when in fact...' His face turned dark with regret, 'I surprised you with a murder mission.'

She looked into his face. What had then been an embodiment of happiness at the thought of relaxation quickly turned to that of shame. She knew inside his brain, he would be punishing himself.

'Hey,' she whispered, 'it's okay. We're okay. I'm alive, you're alive, David's alive, Dad-' her breath hitched in her throat. 'Is alive.' She finished.

'We did it. We ended this whole thing. Like you said, we'll be happier when he's okay. I think it's just all the 'what if's' plaguing me. But we're okay,' she soothed, caressing his cheek and trying to meet his eyes with hers, 'We're okay.'

He brought his lips unexpectedly to hers, and she could tell he was as grateful as she was by the way his mouth moved slowly against hers in a long, gentle kiss and his hand cupped her cheek with relief and urgency. She giggled slightly when he peppered her face with butterfly kisses and she remembered her normal life. Waking up at ungodly hours of the morning, making breakfast, going shopping, doing work, cleaning up, looking after her son. She realised that what she already was was so much better than being a spy. With a spy you had to have nothing to lose, and even when she was with John and lying to him about it, she still thought that it was what she did as much as it was where she belonged. But now she realised that where she belonged was anywhere John and David were. And that was all she needed.

A spluttery cough erupted behind them, and she turned to see her dad sitting up, very much alive. He thumped his chest and winced in pain, trying to catch his breath. Clara helped him into a comfortable position and he looked into her brown eyes.

'Clara?! He managed, his voice almost returning to normal.

'Yes?'

'Don't go spying again.'

She smiled, holding his hand in both of hers.

'I won't.'


	10. Chapter 10

Last Chapter!

Chapter 10

When Dave had recovered and become much better, their holiday began. For a month it was total bliss, relaxing beautifully without anything to worry about. Everyday he spent it with Clara and David, in the pool or out at the Spanish markers buying cute clothes for David and different foods to try. Clara's dad had moved to the ground floor so he had much better access, as he had spent two days cavorting in a wheelchair. Clara was beyond happy when the antidote was fully out of his system and he could walk again.

Clara. Clara, Clara, Clara, Clara. She was so gorgeous and he was so lucky to have her, hold her in his arms each day. They had finally began to settle in for the holiday and thoughts of Missy where pushed out of his mind while they had celebrated their survival that first night with joy and alcohol.

It was truly amazing to still be alive, to have such a wonderful and loving family and he told Clara everyday. The next day it was Christmas, and they made the massive occasion all about David. They had gotten UNIT to get their presents for him from their house and bring them to Spain as part of another IOU. David bounced around with joy, gurgling and clapping his hands and John felt so proud of his little boy. He smiled at Clara, bringing her in closer to kiss her with that unforgotten relief and happiness that lingered there peacefully. Her hands came up to caress his jawline and her father busied himself playing with David as a distraction. Clara planted two more kisses on his lips and then snuggled into his stomach, his arms encircling her body which laid across his crossed legs, watching their son beautifully with Clara holding onto his arms.

The whole month was nothing but relaxing, shopping and sex and John hardly wanted to go back to winter in England as opposed to summer in Spain. Every night Clara would bat her beautiful eyelashes at him and his resistance was nonexistent. He was constantly reminded that he was too lucky to be alive, as he lay in Clara's arms, kissing her and trailing his fingers down her perfect body. Then every morning would be the pleasant experience of waking up with her lying entangled, on top of him and seeing her watch him silently. It was in truth, probably the real reason Dave had settled downstairs.

The lock screen on his phone became the memorable photo of them both lying on a sunbed together, his home screen all three of them, David bouncing happily in their laid and wearing John's oversized rockstar sunglasses. He suspected Clara's were similar.

'We have to go home tomorrow.' She commented, walking sensually up to him and hugging him round the middle.

'I know. Back to cold, wet, boring England with it's three month winters.' He grumbled. She laughed slightly.

'It has been amazing here as a holiday. But there is no place like home.'

He looked down at her smile and agreed.

'And um...' Clara started, looking awkward but excited.

'Do we happen to have any other available children's bedrooms?' She asked. John looked at her, his eyebrow lifting of it's own accord in recognition.

'You're not...' He began.

Clara nodded, and it felt like his whole body had erupted in silver banners and bunting. He picked her up and spun her around, splaying light kisses on her head.

'Are you sure you can wait til next year to become a teacher?'

Clara's arms drew round his neck.

'Yeah. Once they're both a lot older.' She laughed.

'Do you know if it's a girl or a boy?' He asked, his grin spreading wider.

'Not sure, but my spidey senses say girl.'

John was speechless. He was overwhelmed. All he could do was promise a fun last day before they went back home and his smile carried on through every hour.

•••••

She hadn't told her father yet. But maybe he knew anyway, since John couldn't take his hands off her. The plane back home caused her panic and yet again they were both there to comfort her.

They walked through their front door, a bittersweet moment of happiness at being back in their own house. Clara carried David to his chair and both her and John sat down on the couch, not bothering yet with the luggage. John's arm draped round her neck and she curled up next to him. Clara knew that this was definitely what she wanted now. She wanted to keep this normal life forever. Looking up at his beautiful face she ruffled his curly hair once more.

'We did it.'

He smiled back, repeating 'We did it.'

Clara kissed him and knew what she had was more than anything else in the world.


End file.
